Adams ran a finger along the edge of his dress uniform's high collar. It might have been cliche but damn, he hated these things. Obviously dressing up must mean dressing uncomfortably. It was the only logical explanation.
Satisfied with being irrational, his thoughts turned to his new command. The Lexington. Constitution class starship, NCC...oh hell, he'd forgotten the bloody registry number already. Smashing.
He shifted uneasily on his feet, glancing at the chronometer on the wall there in Headquarters. Where the hell was his senior staff? His crew? Had the universe suddenly decided time no longer flowed in any semblance of a linear fashion? Was he very late? Very early?
Either way, waiting was not fun.
Neither were dress uniforms.